THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BENEATH    BLUE 
SKIES  and  GRAY 


COPYRIGHTED    1898,  by 
ROBERT  HOWARD  RUSSELL 

Printed   in   the    United   States   of  America 


Press  of 
The   F.  A.  Bassette    Co. 

Winchester   Park 
Springfield     .     Mass. 


BENEA' 


BLUE  SK:  ES 


AND    GRAY 


POEMS     BY 


Ingram  Crockett 


PUBLISHED  BY 
R.  H.  RUSSELL 
NEW  YORK 


fS 


To  My  Wife  and 
To  My  Mother's  Memory 


759435 


(ftotttents 


In  Haunts  of  Wildrose 9 

The  Oak  Wood  .        .        .         .         .         .         10 

The  Garden  of  Night       .         .         .         .         .         .     11 

In  the  Night         .......         12 

The  Winter  Oaks '   .         .13 

The  Vision  .....  .14 

Black-Eyed  Susans 15 

On  Green  River  .......         16 

Beauty      .         . 18 

A  Walk  at  Sunset         ......         19 

Here         .         .         • 21 

A  Cloister .         :         .        22 

Autumn  Days          .......     23 

A  Voice        .         .         .         .         .         .         . '  25 

Redwing  ........     26 

The  Shining  Hosts     .          .         .         .         .         .         27 

The  Quiet  Chambers 28 

A  Longing  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         29 

A  Call .         .         .30 

The  Day  is  Done          .        .         .         .         .         .         32 

The  Passing  of  Day         ......     33 

Eventide       .         .         .         ......        34 

Late  Afternoon  in  November          .         .         .         -35 
A  Clearing  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         36 

The  Cross        ........     37 

Frost-time  38 

The  First  Blackbird 41 

Ceres ...         •        42 

A  Cloud .         -43 

Come .44 

Whate'er  Befalls  Me  .        .        .        .        .45 

Cow  Bells 46 

At  the  Bend  of  the  Creek 47 

The  Antilles  of  the  Sky      ......        48 

Shadow  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .          .     49 

The  Clover  Blossom    .  ....        50 

A  Prophecy     .         .         .  .         .         .         .51 

The  Vireo .         .         52 

The  Dusk  is  Deepening  .         .         .         .         -53 


(Contents 


A  Sunset      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         54 

A  Presence      ........     55 

The  Cedars -57 

Yule-Tide        .         .         .         ...         .         .58 

An  April  Song    .         .        ,.         ...         .         .         62 

October  ........     63 

My  Heart  With  Longing    .         .         .         .         .         64 

A  Mood .         .         .     66 

The  Hills     ........         67 

The  .Minstrel  .         .         .         .         .         .         .68 

Foretaste 69 

TheKilldee  .         .     70 

Morning        .         .         .  .         .         .         .         71 

Dawn        .         .         .         ....         .         .         -72 

Longing .         .         73 

A  Knight 74 

Invitation     .         .         .  .         .         .         .         75 

A  Spring  Road         .......     77 

Audubon       .         ....         .         .         .         .         78 

Serving  Brothers     .         ....         .         .         .80 

Winter  Days          .         .         .         .         .'         .         .         81 

The  Retreat     .         .         .         .         .         .  ^      .         .82 

Afterward  83 

A  Meeting .         .     86 

September  Days  .         .         •         .         .         .         87 

A  Morning  Song     .         .         .         .  .         .88 

The  Inca's  Daughter     .         .         .         .         .         .         89 

At  Washington's  Grave  .....     94 

Sunset  on  the  River     .         .         .         .         .         ;         95 

The  Unattainable 96 

The  Deserted  House    .         .         .         .         .         .         97 

A  Deed     .         .         .         .         .         ...         .         .     98 

A  Summer  Night          .         .         ,         .         .         .         99 
Good  Brother  Trees         .  .         ,  .   100 

Affinity         .         .         .  ,         .         .         .        101 

The  Wind  and  the  Leaves        .         .         ...         .  102 

A  Little  Lake       .......       104 

The  Grave  in  the  Forest          .         .         .         .         .   106 

In  the  Afterglow  .         .         .         .  .       108 


35lue 


anfc 


ccfe  oC 


This  is  the  spot  where  they  in  beauty  grew ; 

But  now  the  sere  leaves  rustle  'neath  our  feet 

Our  roses  dead  ;   and  yet  in  mem'ry  sweet 

As  on  that  day  when  walking,  love,  with  you, 

We  saw  them  standing  here  empearled  with  dew, 

Upon  the  marge  of  that  wide  sea  of  wheat 

Whose  mellow  ripples  musically  beat 

The  golden  minutes  under  June's  deep  blue. 

So  let  us  keep  them,  all  the  roses  rare 

That  with  their  loveliness  make  glad  our  day: 

What  matter  then,  for  wintry  days  of  care, 

What  matter,  then,  if  skies  be  blue  or  gray, 

Our  hearts  shall  be  like  gardens  very  fair 

Where  fragrant  blossoms  shall  be  found  alway. 


Beneatfj  Blue  £>Iws  anlr  (ffirag 


When  God  pronounced  his  work  all  good 
(Dak    He  must  have  thought  of  the  old  oak  wood, 
Of  the  old  oak  wood  on  an  autumn  day 
With  the  sunshine  goldening  all  that  way 
And  the  glistening  leaves  of  red  and  brown 
Quietly,  dreamily  drifting  down. 

He  must  have  thought  of  the  redbird  there 
With  wings  a-flash  thro'  the  amber  air, 
Of  the  bowed  brown  weeds  that  humbly  wait 
For  the  touch  of  the  frost  that  soon  or  late 
Will  bring  them  death  :  of  the  asters  white 
In  starry  clumps  on  the  hillside  bright. 

And  the  bending  plumes  of  the  golden-rod 
All  must  have  been  in  the  thought  of  God 
And  the  woodpecker's  music,  clear  and  strong, 
Tapped  on  a  dead  limb  all  day  long, 
And  the  silken  gossamers  lightly  spun 
Floss  of  gold  from  the  loom  o'  the  sun. 

And  he  must  have  heard  the  meadow-lark  sing 
Far  off  there  in  the  world's  first  Spring, 
The  meadow-lark's  song  o'er  the  hilltop  rise 
To  the  dreamer  standing  with  misty  eyes 
At  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  listening  lone 
To  the  flutes  of  memory  faintly  blown. 


10 


Book  of 


(je    The  west  is  glowing  crimson  'neath  the  feet 

Jtll    Of  her  the  beautiful,  the  passing  Day, 

of    And,  softly  bright,  the  new  moon  lights  the  way 

r&t    Into  Night's  garden  that  is  dewy  sweet 

With  blossoming  stars  :  where  bright  browed  visions  meet 
And  in  love's  converse  thro'  the  quiet  stray 
'To  where  the  fountains  of  the  wind  at  play 
Make  pleasant  music.     Time,  with  slower  beat 
Of  thy  strong  wings  pass  o'er  this  garden  fair  ! 
Nay,  rest  thee  here,  and  haply  lost  in  dreams 
Thou  wilt  forget  some  wildrose  blooming  long 
To  gladden  earth,  some  young  heart  void  of  care. 
Hark  !     Can'st  thou  hasten  when  'neath  silvery  beams 
Thou  hearest  the  rapture  of  the  thrushes'  song? 


Blue  £>fctes  antr  (ffirag 


t&e    From  out  the  cold  vast  of  the  night 

I  heard  it  crying, 

And  thro'  bare  trees  the  moon  stole  white 
A  ghostly  thing  ! 

I  asked  the  wind,  the  veiled  stars, 

The  clouds,  on  flying, 
"  What  voice  is  this  whose  wailing  mars 

Sleep's  bourgeoning  ?  " 

And  my  heart  replied  :  "  'Tis  a  memory, 

In  fear  undying, 
That  vainly  from  itself  would  flee  — 

A  cursed  thing  !  " 


12 


of 


Gray  bards  of  Winter  standing  calm  and  still 
Upon  the  hillside,  tell  me  all  your  dreams 
For  I  am  weary  and  the  world  meseems, 
For  all  its  gospel,  is  than  you  more  chill. 
I  come  in  weakness,  lift  me  up  until 
I  breathe  your  vigorous  air  lit  with  faint  gleams 
'Of  frosty  sunshine.     Seethe  far-off  streams 
And  to  your  wind-songs  feel  my  pulses  thrill. 
Ah,  blessed  bards  that  truest  comrades  all 
Know  the  good  ministry  of  stars  and  sun, 
In  waiting  restful  while  the  world  doth  toil ! 
Unto  your  loving  strength  my  soul  doth  call. 
O  make  me  strong  that  1  may  be  as  one 
With  peace  communing  'midst  the  world's  turmoil. 


Blue  &iws  antr  (Sfrag 


The  moon,  a  slender  silver  horn, 
Uifiton    Gleams  on  the  rosy-baldricked  morn, 
And,  milky  white,  the  mists  below 
From  frosty  fields  are  rising  slow, 
And  with  a  rapture  as  of  Spring 
The  thrushes  in  the  treetops  sing. 

The  waiting  world  is  very  still 
Before  that  vision  on  the  hill, 
That  vision  that  is  never  old, 
Of  Morning  with  her  bow  of  gold, 
And  in  a  golden  leash  the  Sun 
Leaping  with  eagerness  to  run. 

Oh,  hark  !  the  silver  horn  is  blown, 
Its  witchery  is  round  me  thrown  ; 
I  saw  it  touch  the  Morning's  lips 
Held  in  her  rosy  finger-tips, 
The  world  is  very  still  to  hear 
That  fairy  music  faint  and  clear. 


Book  of 


Tawn  gypsy  children  of  late  Summer  days 
Camping  beside  the  meadow  where  the  sun 
Wakes  hot,  wild  perfume  and  bright  webs  are  spun, 
Soft  silken  pitfalls  of  the  grassy  ways, 
Wherein  you  laugh  to  see  the  bees  that  praise 
Your  loveliness,  fall  blundering,  in  elfish  fun 
'Nodding  your  heads  to  see  them  thus  undone 
Or  dancing  with  the  wind  in  hoydenish  plays. 
Soon  will  the  Frost,  freebooter,  pitiless, 
March  down  upon  you  stealthily  at  night 
And  you  be  captive,  in  your  helplessness 
Standing  before  him  whose  one  law  is  might; 
Serving  in  tatters,  suffering  his  caress, 
And  left  to  perish  when  his  hordes  take  flight. 


iSencatfj  Blue  &fctes  anfc  ©rag 

®n    The  tall  catalpas,  all  in  white,  lean 
<S5rten  far  out  o'er  the  stream  ; 

In  little  fleets  their  blossoms  float  where 

runs  a  silvery  gleam  ; 
The  halcyon  falls,  a  flash  of  blue,  the 

hawk  in  circles  slow 
Mounts  up  and  up  until  he's  lost  far 

in  the  golden  glow. 
O  ho,  hoi  ho,  boys  'walk  along! 
O  ho,  hoi  ho,  boys  walk  along! 

The  sunlight  smites  the  river  hard,  its 

ripples  flash  a- fire, 
A  murmuring  music's  in  the  leaves, 

a  glad  aeolian  lyre, 
A  fisher  sits  beneath  the  shade,  the 

sunlight  sifting  thro' 
Below,  above,  he  sees  the  clouds  float 

softly  in  the  blue. 
O  ho,  hot  ho,  boys -walk  along! 
O  ho,  hoi  ho,  boys  walk  along! 

A  fret  of  silver  runs  across  the 

current's  molten  gold, 
The  fingers  of  the  wind  are  there  in 

merry  touch  and  bold, 
The  sweet-brier  dances  to  the  tune 

the  wind  a"nd  ripples  play 

16 


of 


There  at  the  bankside  'midst  the  ferns  ; 

and  all  the  hazels  sway. 
Oh,  -walk  along,  boys,  ivalk  along! 
(Continued)     We'll  get  there  by  and  by,  -walk  along! 

The  raft  comes  slowly  round  the  bend,  its 

long  sweep  dripping  light 
As  lifted,  dipped,  by  sinewy  arms,  it 

steers  the  raft  aright ; 
The  raftmen's  tent  is  cool  and  white  — 

there  comes  a  whiff  of  smoke, 
The  last,  pure  fragrant  offering  of  hickory 

or  oak. 

Oh,  'walk  along,  boys,  walk  along"! 
•Say,  hurry  up  your  dinner,  ivalk  along! 

O  days  beneath  the  bright  June  sky, 

O  days  so  fair  and  fleet ! 
Like  blossoms  treasured  in  a  book,  that 

faded  yet  are  sweet ! 
O  rugged  raftmen  at  the  sweep  with 

brown  bare  arms  and  strong, 
There    is   a   chord   in    memory   that 

vibrates  to  your  song  ! 
O  ho,  hoi  ho,  boys  ivalk  along! 
We'll  get  there  by  and  by,  walk  along! 


Blue  £>fcte8  anlr  (Stag 


•Ceautp    When  round  the  white,  uplifted,  holy  brow 
Of  some  tall  peak  a  halo  of  pale  gold 
Thro'  gathering  dusk,  doth  rapturously  hold 
Our  eyes  and  thoughts,  and  lift  us  from  the  slough 
Of  sordidness  that  Beauty  may  endow 
Us  richly  with  her  treasures  manifold, 
Shall  we  in  marts  where  lives  are  bought  and  sold 
Straightway  forget  her  in  some  Mammon  vow? 
Shall  we  shut  out  the  music  of  the  sea  ? 
Or  slight  the  flowers  that  fair  hands  upreach 
Like  little  children,  prattlers  at  the  knee 
Of  Nature,  mother  eloquent  to  teach  ? 
Ah,  having  all  things,  poor  indeed  were  we 
Undowered  of  Beauty,  knowing  not  her  speech. 


18 


Ah,  how  I  love  this  quiet  way 

That  leads  me  from  the  town 
at    That  leads  me  from  'its  smoky  sway 
To  pleasant  meadows,  brown. 

The  woods  are  flecked  with  red  and  gold 

The  willowed  creek  is  low, 
And  in  its  shadows,  dank  and  cold, 

The  Cardinal  flowers  glow. 

The  hoary  fences,  misers,  count 

Their  stores  of  golden-rod, 
The  milkweed's  winged  children  mount 

From  many  a  silken  pod. 

Broad  fields  are  purple  with  the  plumes 

Of  sinewy  ironweeds, 
And  i-oses  that  were  crowned  with  blooms, 

Wear  strings  of  coral  beads. 

The  silent  couriers  of  the  Dusk 

Wait  in  the  shadows  deep; 
The  tall  corn,  still  in  untorn  husk, 

Seems  drowsing  into  sleep. 

Now  hangs  the  red  globe  of  the  sun 

Upon  the  brink  of  night ; 
And  silently  the  mists  are  spun 

In  gossamers  of  white. 


Beneat!)  Blue  Cities  antr  ©rag 

9t    The  grass  is  crisp  beneath  my  feet, 

A  leaf  is  shaken  down  ; 
at    The  stars  come  out — the  way  is  sweet 

That  leads  me  back  to  town. 

(Continued) 

That  leads  me  back  to  home  and  her 

Whose  love  o'er  all  I  prize, 
Who  welcomes  me  with  lips  of  myrrh, 

And  smiles  and  love-lit  eyes. 


20 


3  iSoofc  of  JJocms 

|)ere    Here  pours  the  creek  its  bubbled  tide 

In  circling  currents,  slow, 
The  deer-berries  nodding  at  its  side 
Sun-kissed  are  all  aglow. 

Here  willows  in  long  olive  lines 

Dance  to  the  water's  tune, 
And,  fragrantly,  from  hidden  shrines 

Are  wafted  prayers  for  June. 

Here  cobweb  bridges  sway  and  swing 

Beneath  the  Wind's  light  tread ; 
And,  touched  by  some  sweet  thought  of  Spring, 

The  maple  buds  turn  red. 


Blue  Cities  anlr  (ffirag 


31    The  silvery  pipes  of  sparrows  softly  blown 
Clotfittr    From  rose  and  holly  thickets,  and  the  flute 

Of  a  meadow-lark  from  fields  that  else  are  mute  — 

And  in  the  oaks  the  wind's  low  monotone, 

And  thoughts  that  thrill  me  as  I  walk  alone  — 

Thoughts  sweeter  than  the  music  of  a  lute 

Swept  by  light  hands.     No  triflers  here  dispute 

With  jangling  voices  over  the  unknown, 

Nor  wild,  rough  words  jar  on  the  strings  of  peace 

That  breathe  the  melody  of  true  content  ; 

But  faith  is  crystal  clear  and  joy  is  deep  : 

For  here  my  God  doth  me  a  cloister  keep 

Near  to  the  hills  where  Heaven  and  earth  are  blent 

And  all  the  discords  of  the  dark  world  cease. 


22 


Stttumn    O  gentle  days  of  Autumn  ! 
iDaj>0    O  holy  days  of  gvay  ! 

That  with  an  inner  rapture 
In  meditation  stray  — 
How  peaceful  'tis  to  follow 
With  you  to  lead  the  way. 

To  follow  where  the  sumacs 
Like  candelabra,  red, 
Light  brakes  of  brier  and  hazel, 
And  leaves  are  thickly  spread 
A  carpet,  russet-golden, 
That  rustles  to  the  tread  — 

Through  flower-haunted  places 
In  misty  meadows,  low. 
Or  by  the  winding  creek  side 
To  hear  the  waters  flow  — 
The  happy  waters  singing 
A  song  that  poets  know. 

Or  up  the  steeps  of  hillsides 

Thro'  pearly-tinted  grays 

Of  sweet  life-everlasting, 

To  see  the  mellow  haze 

Far  breathed  o'er  the  landscape- 

A  quiet  world  that  prays. 


33eiuatfj  35hie  ^feiea  antr 


.3utomn    But  sweetest  when  I  follow 
t?apfi    With  you,  and  fails  the  light 

(Continued)      par  jn  t^e  magjc   wCStland, 

And  gently  comes  the  night, 
And  trembling  on  her  bosom 
One  little  star  of  white  — 

To  hear  a  tender  message, 
A  spirit  message  clear  — 
A  voice  from  out  the  meadows 
Thro'  mists  that  falter  near, 
That  holds  me  as  'twere  music 
Of  Heaven  upon  my  ear. 

A  bird,  and  yet  a  spirit 
Of  time  long,  long  ago, 
Who,  by  the  shore  of  twilight 
Beneath  the  day's  last  glow, 
Doth  on  the  pipes  of  mem'ry 
A  lovely  flute-call  blow. 


JSook  of 


I  hear  it  oft  in  the  deep  o'  the  night, 

Calling,  calling  to  me, 
When  laughter  has  passed,  love,  laughter,  and  light. 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 

What  does  it  want  in  the  night  so  deep  ? 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 
Why  does  it  moan  in  the  halls  o'  sleep  ? 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 

I  cannot  go  for  the  way  is  cold 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 
Leading  down  by  the  oak  tree,  old. 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 

I  cannot  go  for  fresh  is  the  sod 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 
There  where  the  thick-leaved  hazels  nod. 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 

What  have  I  done,  O  God,  in  the  way? 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 
There  where  the  thick-leaved  hazels  sway? 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 

Why  does  the  moon  wear  a  shroud  to-night  ? 

Calling,  calling  to  me. 
O  God,  must  I  look  on  that  face  so  white 

Calling,  calling  to  me? 

25 


iSeneatlj  Blue  Cities  anfc  ©rag 

KrtrtDtncr    Winged  flame  and  flute  of  Spring, 
You  the  woodlands  hear  ! 
Tips  of  twigs  are  shining  clear, 
And  the  blackbirds  sing. 

March's  color-bearer,  true, 

Lo,  the  tents  of  green  ! 

And  the  maple's  fires  between, 
Bright  to  welcome  you. 

Lover  of  the  misty  sky 

And  the  golden  shower  ! 

Warder  of  the  budding  hour 
When  new  dreams  are  nigh  — 

Tell  me  when  you  came,  and  how, 

In  what  magic  way  ? 

Yesterday  the  world  was  gray, 
It  is  rainbowed  now  ! 

Ah,  to  follow  where  you  go 

On  your  joyous  flight ! 

Kindling,  with  your  wings  of  light, 
Flowers  on  meadows  low. 

Winged  flame  and  flute  of  Spring, 

Happy,  we  who  hear  ! 

While  the  bright' ning  buds  appear, 
And  the  blackbirds  sing. 

26 


Book  ot 


Seraphic  vision  !      Day  is  done,  and  see  ! 
The  hosts  of  God  with  shining  wings  outspread 
Filling  the  world  with  glory,  upward  led 
To  holy  heights  where  burns  eternally 
The  white,  unwavering  flame  of  purity. 
Or  is  this  that  great  company  of  dead 
Which  passed  in  darkness,  now  transfigured 
In  wondrous  beauty,  beckoning  to  me? 
I  know  not  now,  but  One  doth  surely  speak 
Out  of  the  rainbow,  from  the  stars  of  Night, 
And  from  the  splendor  of  this  passing  light  : 
And  Him,  and  Him  alone,  my  soul  doth  seek. 
Surely  He  calls  me  thro'  these  visions  bright, 
Surely  He  waits  me  on  some  heavenly  peak. 


Blue  &fcies  anlr  ©rag 


Far  overhead  the  icy  West  wind  roars, 
Outrt    Whipping  the  tree-tops  with  his  furious  lash 
Till  all  the  creaking  boughs  together  clash. 
But  here  the  brown  leaves  on  the  windless  floors 
Lie  all  unruffled,  and  the  sycamores 
That  love  the  streams,  with  many  a  hardened  ash 
Moss-boled,  unmindful  of  the  crash 
Above  them,  rise  from  peaceful  shores. 
Here  broods  the  spirit  of  eternal  peace 
Giving  the  benison  of  golden  calm, 
While  wildest  storms  break  on  the  world  above. 
These  are  the  deeps  where  strife  and  clamor  cease, 
The  Quiet  Chambers  odorous  with  balm 
That  speak  the  restfulness  of  God's  own  love. 


28 


of 


A  longing,  strange  and  sweet, 
Comes  o'er  me  when  I  hear 
That  guiding  call  so  clear 

From  noiseless  wings  that  beat  — 
Wedging  their  way  to  rest 
Far  in  the  charmed  west, 

By  some  calm  water,  deep, 
By  some  still,  mist-hid  stream  where 
dwelleth  sleep. 

Ah,  may  I,  too,  some  day 
Find  the  far  happy  isles, 
Where  after  weary  miles 

I  shall  with  loved  ones  stay  ; 
And  know  without  surcease 
The  blessedness  of  peace. 

Yea,  end  this  cloudy  quest 
In  some  clear,  rainbow  land  where 
all  is  rest. 

O  longing  strange  and  sweet  ! 
Beyond  this  mystery 
My  Leader  calls  to  me  : 

To  bear  me  up  and  on 

Where  my  beloved  are  gone. 

Breaks  now  a  clearer  light  — 
I  hear  His  call  and  know  that  all 
is  right. 


29 


33Iue     ities  anlr 


31    O  spirit  of  the  Winter  wind,  of  gray 
Call  clouds  hanging  low, 

The  message  that  you  bring  to  me  is 

clearest  that  I  know  — 
And  I  will  follow  where  you  lead 

adown  the  wooded  steep 

Where  in  the  winding  hollows  lie  the 

brown  leaves  fast  asleep. 

And  you  shall  tell  me  of  your  dreams 

and  I  will  tell  you  mine, 
While  listening  to  that  song  I  love,  the 

wind-song  of  the  pine  ; 
Ah,  yes,  in  God's  wide  chambers  where 

the  light  is  full  and  free 
Yet  softly  shining  thro'  the  haze  of  life's 

old  mystery. 

O  spirit  of  the  Winter  wind  I  hear  you 

calling  now  : 
"  Come  out  !  come  out  !  "  you  seem  to  say, 

**  beneath  the  leafless  bough  ! 
Where  bloom  the  flowers  of  the  frost 

in  all  their  crystal  grace, 
And  tangled  in  the  ironweeds  are  webs 

of  snowy  lace." 


3300k  of 


31    I  hear  the  waters  flowing  over  ice 
Call  like  fluted  pearl, 

(Continued)    The  w\\^  ducks  northward  beat  their  way, 

the  plovers  round  me  skirl  ; 
And  with  his  rhythmic  hammer  taps  the 

flicker  all  the  day, 
And  woods  are  weft  with  colors  of 
the  redbird  and  the  jay. 

The  world  is  housed,  but  you  and  I 

may  wander  where  we  will, 
And  list  the  music  of  the  woods,  or  low, 

or  high  and  shrill  — 
Or  in  the  meadow  lie  at  rest  among  the 

broomsedge,  tall, 
And  hear,  far-off,  a  spirit  voice,  the 

meadow-lark's  clear  call. 

Glad  spirit  of  the  Winter  wind  I  hear 

you  calling  now  : 
"  Come  out  !   come  out  !  "  you  seem  to  say, 

"  and  keep  with  me  a  vow  ! 
For  we  must  make  a  pilgrimage 

to  worship  at  a  shrine 
Deep  in  the  woods,  where  ever  sounds 

the  wind-song  of  the  pine." 


Bcneatft  Blue  &lms  anlr  ©frag 


Down  sinks  the  glowing  red  disc  of  the  sun 
Behind  the  dark  oak  wood,  and  floating  bright, 
3D0ne    Gold-roseate  bubbles  on  the  brim  of  night, 
The  little  clouds  evanish  one  by  one, 
And  twilight  deepens  and  The  Day  is  Done. 
The  Day  is  Done,  and  with  its  passing  light 
How  much  of  weariness,  how  much  of  blight 
That  in  the  morning  with  its  tasks  begun 
Our  hearts  undreamed  of.      Ah,  me,  good  is  rest  ! 
Profoundest  rest  without  a  thought  or  dream, 
Without  a  glimmer  of  the  day  to  be, 
Without  a  memory  of  the  strife,  the  quest. 
Small  thought  the  toiler  has  for  morning's  beam 
But  only  from  his  labor  to  be  free. 


Book  of 


2TI)C    A  little  while  at  sundown's  splendid  gate 
Passing;    She  lingering  stood,  and  looked  adown  the  way 
Of  SDap    Her  feet  had  trod,  and,  looking,  seemed  to  pray 
For  her  dear  hills,  in  love  compassionate  — 
For  her  dear  hills  who  thro'  the  years  would  wait 
To  greet  her  coming,  true  to  her  for  aye  — 
Forgetting  her  not  among  the  gay 
Succeeding  days — a  memory  consecrate. 
And  in  great  tenderness  she  gently  laid 
Bright  golden  chaplets  on  each  brow,  and,  slow, 
All  wrapped  in  rosy  mists  did  softly  fade 
Into  the  past,  yet  left  an  afterglow 
Of  wondrous  beauty  whereon  white  stars  made 
A  wide-meshed  net  of  splendor  hanging  low. 


33 


Beneati)  Blue  &fctes  ant 


The  romping  winds  that  swiftly  pass 
Make  waves  and  dimples  in  the  grass. 

The  wheatfleld,  purpling  fold  on  fold, 
Is  starred  with  sheaves  of  harvest  gold. 

New  carpeted  from  Summer's  loom 
The  meadows  pink  with  clover  bloom. 

The  willows  downy  lint  of  white 
Is  shaken  windward  silken  bright. 

A  child's  shrill  cry,  a  far-off  song 
Upon  the  silence  float  along. 

The  dusky  robes  of  nearing  Night 
Are  softly  fringed  with  orange  light. 

And  in  the  linden  hanging  low 
Diana's  sharp-tipped  silver  bow. 


34 


bet 


Late    The  garnered  fields  are  betted  round 
&fter«         With  leafless  woods  of  gray, 
noon   fn    And  to  the  rhythm  of  keen  winds 
The  branches  sway. 

O'er  head,  on  lazy  loitering  wings, 
Against  a  cloud-ribbed  sky, 

With  out-craned  necks  and  mocking  caws 
The  crows  flock  by. 

The  tented  army  of  the  corn 
Waits  in  the  lowlands,  brown, 

The  sun  drops  hazily  behind 
The  smoke- wreathed  town. 

Now  quiet  hushes  with  mute  touch 
The  whisper'ng  grasses,  tall, 

And,  standing  tiptoe,  waits  to  catch 
Night's  first  foot-fall. 

A  bar  of  red  gold  gleams  athwart 

The  west  and  groweth  dim 
And  fades,  and  darkness  overflows 

Deep  twilight's  brim. 


35 


33eneatfj  Blue  £>fctes  anir 


21    There  comes  a  vision  of  a  bright  spot  cleared 
Clearing    Within  a  deep,  deep  wood  of  oak  and  pine, 
A  little  cabin  where  wild  grape-vines  twine, 
And  gourds  for  swallows  on  a  tall  pole  reared 
Sway  in  the  breeze  :  a  memory  endeared 
By  youth's  associations,  clear  sunshine 
That  thro'  life's  clouded  days  has  e'er  been  mine 
And  with  its  gladness  has  my  pathway  cheered. 
A  little  clearing  wherein  woodsmoke  curled 
In  fragrant  incense  from  a  happy  hearth, 
And  melted  softly  in  the  blue  above. 
A  little  home  uncaring  of  the  world, 
Of  pleasant  books,  of  health,  of  faith,  of  mirth, 
Wherein  there  dwelt  the  blessed  angel  Love. 


of 


Th'  expectant  wood  that  late  had  gentler  grown 
Watched,  waiting  for  the  advent  of  the  Spring; 
The  sun  hung  low,  I  heard  the  robins  sing, 
And  far-off  bells  across  the  meadows  blown  ; 
The  world  was  very  still,  and  I,  alone, 
Walking  slowly  homeward  with  my  thoughts  awing 
To  seek  the  mystery  of  the  soul,  to  bring 
Some  certain  token  from  that  land  unknown. 
When  lo  !  from  out  the  west  a  ray  of  gold 
Far-reaching,  glorious,  touched  a  distant  spire 
And  bright'ning  upward,  gleamed,  a  holy  fire, 
Upon  The  Cross.     O  God  of  love  untold 
Cannot  we  trust  Thee  that  this  deep  desire 
Shall  find  fruition  when  Thy  gates  unfold  ! 


37 


Beneatfj  Blue  £fcies  antr  ©rag 


JFro0t;    The  sycamores'  white  branches  are 

tipped  with  yellow  leaves, 
The  sparrows  gossip  cozily  beneath 

the  red-haw's  eaves, 
The  poison-oak,  shoots  slender  flame 

up  thro'  the  poplar's  gold, 
And  the  aspens  are  a-shiver  at  the 

step  of  coming  Cold. 

Theblackgums  glow  in  purple  along 

the  woodland's  edge, 
The  reddening  osage-oranges  lie  thick 

beneath  the  hedge, 
The  sumacs,  scarlet-coated,  nod  by 

the  gray  fence-rows, 
And  clematis,  as  white  as  snow, 

across  the  fencetop  flows. 

The  silver  silken  gossamers  are 

twinkling.  on  the  hill, 
And  with  a  gentle  loneliness  the  fields 

are  all  athrill, 
There's  stubble  in  the  cornfields, 

and  mottled  gold  and  brown 
Of  rich  tobacco  in  the  barns  —  and 

fleets  of  thistledown. 


ftook  of 


The  yellow  plumes  of  golden-rod  are 

turned  to  grayish  white  ; 
The  creek  is  low,  its  stilly  pools 

with  fallen  leaves  are  bright; 
The  hickory-nuts  and  acorns  lie 

thick  upon  the  ground, 
And  wild  grapes  hang  along  the 

limbs  of  thickets  they  have  bound. 

O,  now,  'tis  sweet  at  dusk  to  hear 

the  whistle  of  the  quail  ; 
To  walk  beneath  the  day's  last  glow 

knee-deep  in  grasses  pale  ; 
To  hear  the  low  of  cattle,  and  the 

clatter  of  the  bars  ; 
To  watch  the  crystal  twinkle  of  the 

first  of  many  stars. 

And  in  the  morning  early,  when  the 

east  is  all  a-tinge 
With  the  glory  of  the  coming,  when 

beyond  the  woodland's  fringe 
In  silence  wrells  the  beauty  of  the 

day-spring  flowing  near, 
And  falters  down  the  hoary  hills 

in  quiet  white  and  clear  — 


39 


JFroet- 

time 

(Continued) 


Blue  &fctes  anlr  (ffirag 


Oh,  then,  when  robins  twitter  and  the 

wrens  are  chirping  nigh, 
And  mapies  flash  another  dawn  to 

greet  the  dawn  on  high, 
There's  ecstacy  in  breathing,  yes 

a  tang  in  all  the  air, 
A  rapture  in  the  very  blood  that 

makes  one  laugh  at  care. 

Oh,  lusty  Frost-time,  kiss  the  leaves 

and  turn  them  rosy  red  ! 
And  let  all  stars  the  brighter  be  that 

shine  out  overhead, 
And  trail  the  mists  like  silver 

scarfs  across  the  meadows,  low, 
And  over  all  the  glamour  of  thy 

happy  presence  throw. 


4o 


SCI)0    Upon  the  elms  there  lay  a  mist  of  green, 
First    The  maple  buds  were  red,  the  fallowed  fields 
larft=    Were  smoking  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  wealds 
btrtl    Were  softer  grown,  and  winds,  no  longer  keen, 
Breathed  life  into  the  violets  ;   clouds  serene 
Were  drifting  in  the  blue,  their  shadow  keels 
Dark'ning  the  meadows,  where,  with  song  that  steals 
From  some  far  spirit  land,  the  lark  is  seen. 
Then  sang  the  blackbird  joyously  a-swing 
Upon  a  willow  o'er  a  bubbled  stream, 
The  sunlight  glinting  on  his  burnished  wing, 
His  song  the  echo  of  a  sylvan  dream 
Of  some  delightful  clime  where  flowers  fling 
Their  golden  largess  to  the  Constant  Spring. 


3Seneatf)  3BIuc  Cities  anlr  <£rag 

Crrr0    The  amber  wheat,  the  silvery  rye 

Flowed  down  on  either  side 
The  brambled  fence ;  the  western  sky 
Was  dappled  far  and  wfde. 

With  shining  flecks  of  golden  light, 

And  one  white,  trembling  star 
Looked  out  upon  the  sea  of  Night 

Across  a  rosy  bar. 

The  moon,  a  thread  of  silver,  hung 

Low  tangled  in  the  trees, 
And  dimpling  grasses  softly  sung 

The  lyrics  of  the  breeze. 

Then,  while  the  rosy  light  grew  less 

And  faded  from  the  blue, 
Came  Ceres  thro'  the  quietness 

With  fragrant  dusk  and  dew. 


Book  of 


O  mighty  Cloud  above  yon  wooded  slope, 

Thy  garments  golden  tinted,  art  thou  he 

Whom  late  I  saw  in  warlike  panoply, 

The  fierce  sword  flashing,  with  whom  none  might  cope? 

Behold  thou  seemest  an  angel,  now,  of  Hope 

In  dazzling  raiment,  beckoning  to  me 

On  heavenlier  heights  to  follow  after  thee 

At  whose  command  the  gates  of  morning  ope  ! 

Ah,  mock  me  not,  nor  lead  me  on  to  shake 

Thy  awful  thunders  o'er  my  helpless  head  ! 

But  be  thou  tender  as  thou  seemest  now  ; 

And  'neath  thy  shining  wings  a  shelter  make. 

Smile  thou  upon  me  lest  I  be  afraid 

And  wear,  for  me,  Love's  aureole  on  thy  brow. 


43 


Blue  Cities  antr  ©rag 


Come  !  the  lusty  morning  star 
Pales  above  a  rosy  bar  ! 
Redbuds  purple,  dogwoods  white, 
Glimmer  thro'  the  faery  light. 
Thro'  the  greening  meadow,  wide, 
Flows  the  mist  a  silver  tide  ; 
Passion  breathed  whisperings, 
Love  songs  that  the  robin  sings, 
Rainbow  dewdrops  twinkling  new 
Golden  clouds  and  deeps  o'  blue  — 
These  shall  lead  us,  these  shall  bring 
Laughter  dimpled  hopes  of  Spring. 


44 


ISoofc  of 


Whate'er  of  agony  of  heart  be  mine, 

Whate'er  of  labor  ere  my  race  is  run, 

Of  weary  darkness  ere  my  day  be  done  — 

I  shall  remember  how  the  dear  stars  shine  : 

The  mystic  music  of  the  wind  and  pine, 

The  unspeakable  glory  of  the  passing  sun, 

The  gossamers  in  looms  of  Morning  spun, 

And,  where  I  worshiped,  the  deep  woodland  shrine. 

I  shall  remember  to  my  latest  breath  — 

And  may  I  hear  the  vesper  sparrow  sing 

In  passing,  and  behold  the  sunset  light 

Even  unto  the  very  gate  of  death  ! 

And  after  that  —  dear  God  I  pray  Thee  bring 

These  that  I  Jove  unto  me  thro'  the  night. 


45 


Blue  £>fcies  anlr  ©frag 


Co)0    Music  of  quiet  lanes,  O  mellow  bells, 
iarlls    I  follow  where  you  lead  adown  the  way 

Unto  the  creek  where  nods  the  drowsy  day 
Lulled  by  light  ripples,  and  the  blue  flag  tells 
Her  dreams  unto  the  dragon-fly  —  where  dwells 
The  heron,  sage,  whose  sober  thoughts  ne'er  .stray 
To  laughing  waters  or  the  notes  you  play 
O  golden  voices  ringing  thro'  the  dells  ! 
No  poet,  he,  but  cold  philosopher  ! 
Leave  him,  lead  on,  the  dew  begins  to  fall, 
A  clear  voice  calls  us  from  the  trysting  bars. 
The  meadows,  hills,  are  one  soft  fragrant  blur, 
And  in  the  rose,  above  the  wood's  dark  wall, 
Trembling  like  dewdrops  shine  the  early  stars. 


a  Book  of  iloems 

t|)e  Snow  petals  lay 

On  the  grasses,  gray, 
of  tlje    At  the  bend  of  the  creek  where  the  waters  tinkled 
Creek  Softly  as  wire 

Under  ice,  like  pearl, 
All  fluted  and  curled  and  frost  besprinkled.  - 

Laughters  that  sleep 

In  the  current,  deep, 
Soft  dappled  with  shadows  of  glistening  umber, 

Bubbled,  awake, 

At  the  pebbly  break, 
Rippled,  and  sank  once  more  into  slumber. 

And  a  redbird  came, 

Like  a  shaft  of  flame 
Shot  suddenly  down  thro'  the  silence  and  whiteness ; 

And  a  quail  piped  clear 

From  a  cornfield  near, 
Then  dusk,  and  stars,  and  the  night's  cold  brightness. 


47 


Blue    >fcics  atrtr 


I  saw,  when  the  wind  of  the  west  blew  free, 
&ntillecf    Gold-clustered  in  a  silver  sea, 
of  t&e    The  fair  Antilles  of  the  sky 

That  off  the  coast  of  sundown  lie  — 
Gold-clustered,  with  an  inner  light, 
Above  the  flowing  tide  of  Night. 

The  charmed  waves  go  singing  there, 
A  chastened  glory  fills  the  air, 
And  song  is  crowned,  and  ever  swells 
Her  praise  as  sweet  as  silver  bells, 
And  thro'  a  vale  that  dreamers  know 
The  poppy-broidered  rivers  flow. 

And  on  a  level  spot  is  seen 
A  try  sting  place  of  beryl  green, 
Where  fragrant  drifts  of  sunny  snows 
Are  touched  with  tints  of  pearl  and  rose 
O'er-topped  by  that  transcendent  peak 
Of  perfectness  that  poets  seek. 

And  in  that  realm  of  faery  dwell, 
In  gardens  bright  with  asphodel, 
The  souls  of  poets  past  the  scorn, 
To  sweeter  life,  thro'  death,  new-born, 
And  beauty  leads  them  evermore 
Along  a  music-haunted  shore. 


48 


of 


Gray  clouds  hang  o'er  the  fallen  sun, 
And  meadow-lark's  flutes  are  faintly  blown 
From  far  meads,  o'er  the  cornfields,  dun, 
Lying  low  and  lone. 

Fine  and  thin  are  the  mist-shrouds  spun 
By  Night's  cold  hands  now  the  day  has  flown, 
Shrouds  all  white  for  the  cornfields,  dun, 
Lying  low  and  lone. 

Stillness  :  save  where  the  little  streams  run 
Whisperingly,  and  the  wind  makes  moan  ; 
And  darkness  bows  o'er  the  cornfields,  dun, 
Lying  low  and  lone. 


49 


Blue    fctes  attlr 


The  rain,  from  shining  rainbowed  skies, 

Blew  soft  against  my  cheek, 
•ffilo00am    I  had  gone  forth  into  the  fields 
Their  restfulness  to  seek  — 

And  stood  where  I  could  hear  the  low 
Clear  carol  of  the  creek. 

The  clover  blossom  by  the  way 
Bent  down  to  kiss  my  feet, 

But  I,  in  all  my  sinfulness, 
I  could  not  think  it  meet  — 

I  worthy  to  but  touch  the  hem 
Of  robe  so  pure  and  sweet. 

And  by  the  clover  blossom,  there, 

I  prayed  that  I  might  be 
As  worthy  ;  that  my  Lord  might  come 

In  tender  love  to  me, 
And  on  me  place  the  perfect  grace 

Of  lowly  purity. 


Book  oC 


A  sadness  brooded  o'er  the  earth,  the  sky 
Was  one  dull  blur,  the  silent,  sentinel  trees 
Upon  the  upland,  mist-wreathed  to  their  knees, 
Seemed  watching  ever  for  young  Hope  gone  by 
With  all  her  trains  of  happy  minstrelsy  — 
The  bright-eyed  smiling  hours,  the  birds,  the  bees, 
And  brooks  that  know  all  artless  melodies 
And  all  the  forest  children  fair  and  shy. 
When  suddenly  from  out  the  mist  there  came 
A  flute-like  note:   so  true,  so  clear,  so  sweet  — 
Such  as  the  thickets  know  when  winged  flame 
The  cardinal  comes  his  own  true  love  to  greet. 
Ah,  welcome  prophecy  !     Let  sadness  claim 
The  earth  awhile  —  soon  Spring  and  I  shall  meet. 


ISeneatfj  Blue  Cities  antr  <S5frag 


Pale  sunshine  flickers  in  the  dewy  brake 
Utrro    Beside  the  creek  where  liriodendrons,  tall, 

Lift  high  their  golden  cups,  and  raindrops  fall 
Like  splendid  jewels  that  the  breezes  shake 
From  rainbowed  skies,  and  vireo  doth  make 
The  woods  delightful  with  his  mellow  call  — 
A  music  of  sweet  reeds  that  filleth  all 
The  leafy  chambers,  and  bright  dreams  awake. 
Far  off  the  world  seems  to  me,  sitting  here 
O'er-arched  with  delicate  green,  and  on  my  heart 
A  great  joy  falls,  for  I  am  one  of  you 
O  trees,  O  stream,  O  vireo  singing  clear ! 
Escaped  forever  from  the  noisy  mart, 
A  white  cloud  dreaming  in  the  tranquil  blue. 


of 

Cf)e    The  dusk  is  deepening,  and  the  wizard  stars 
SDttflifc   10    That  set  adrift  all  dreams  and  mysteries 

Walk  on  the  marge  of  Night ;  no  discord  mars 

The  quiet  hour's  clear  pulsing  harmonies, 

The  beat  of  innumerable  lives  in  grass  and  trees. 

Hushed  is  cicada  ;   when  the  level  light 

Failed  in  the  treetops.  sank  to  earth's  wide  rim, 

His  shrill  voice  ceased ;  then  did  the  crickets  smite 

Their  harps  in  unison  in  solemn  hymn, 

Lighted  by  dewdrops  in  leaf-chambers  dim. 

Dost  hear  Lord  God  these  myriad  voices  small, 
Mine  own  with  theirs,  that  cry  here  in  the  dark, 
And  pass  with  Summer,  pass  beyond  recall 
As  in  the  night  an  outward-flying  spark. 
These  little  lives  of  ours  dost  care  to  mark? 

Why  should  we  know?  the  Summer  night  is  sweet, 
The  stars  are  fair,  love's  lips  are  very  near  — 
Why  should  we  know  if  we  with  Thee  shall  meet? 
These  simple  songs  of  ours  to  us  are  dear 
Would  they  be  sweeter  knowing  Thou  dost  hear? 

These  simple  songs  of  ours,  we'll  sing  them  o'er 
And  joy  in  one  another  —  who  can  see 
Beyond  the  portal  of  that  dark  "No  More  ?" 
The  future  is  all  shadow  —  let  it  be. 
If  Thou  art  Love  'twill  brighten  unto  Thee. 

53 


3L    Spirit  Immortal  surely  this  must  be 
A  vision  of  Thy  glory  :  on  the  hills 
A  beauty  not  of  earth,  the  light  that  fills 
The  chambers  of  Thy  presence  eternally ! 
And  in  this  quiet  Thou  art  near  to  me, 
Yea,  surely  'tis  Thy  very  touch  that  stills 
My  soul's  unrest,  and  these  Thy  little  rills 
That  know  Thy  voice  are  prattling  unto  Thee. 
Oh,  'tis  a  holy  time  !  unto  my  soul 
A  benediction  of  unchanging  love, 
Waking  the  chords  of  memory  and  tears  : 
While  softer,  tenderer  shines  Thy  aureole, 
And  one  by  one  are  lit  Thy  stars  above, 
To  lead  me  on  thro'  darkness  and  thro'  fears. 


54 


When  to  the  wind  the  wildrose  lifts  pure  lips, 
And  in  a  quiet  place  the  vireo  sings, 
While,  molten  gold,  the  dewy  sunshine  drips 
Leaf-filtered  on  his  happy  song-thrilled  wings  — 
When  trumpet  vines  red-clustered  on  the  hill 
Blow  joyous  welcome  to  the  huntress  morn, 
And  fragrant-robed  beside  clear  pools  and  still 
The  elder  dreams  o'er  watched  by  ranks  of  corn  — 
I  see  her  passing,  samite-clad  and  fair, 
With  mists  that  melt  into  the  golden  air. 

Nor  is  she  absent  from  the  wintry  wood 
Where  frost-stars  shine  in  all  their  loveliness, 
She  bringeth  there  her  gracious  gift  of  good, 
She  walketh  there  in  beauty  none  the  less. 
Above  her  glow  the  heavens  rosy  cold, 
To  every  twig  there  comes  a  clearer  grace, 
The  moss  is  greener  on  the  oak  tree,  old, 
There  is  a  welcome  in  each  sheltered  place  — 
And  music  there  of  mellow  reeds  and  true 
Whereon,  one  day,  God  Pan  a  parting  blew. 

0  true  beloved  of  the  stars  and  fields 

1  would  that  I  might  follow  where  you  lead ! 

O'er  fresh-plowed  earth,  thro'  all  the  happy  wealds, 
By  sparkling  waters  in  a  fragrant  mead. 


55 


Blue  ^fctea  antr  (ffirag 


21    Or  deep  into  the  winter's  crystal  core, 

Or  where  the  leaves  fall,  scarlet,  red  and  gold  ; 
(Continued)     go  1  might  follow  —  loving  you  the  more, 

Look  in  your  face  and  with  you  converse  hold. 
I  see  you  beckon,  but  with  fettered  feet 
Far  off  I  follow  in  your  footsteps  sweet. 


Silent,  dark-browed,  and  cold  you  seem  to  me 

Seen  from  this  bright  hillside  where  redbuds  glow 

In  ardent  beauty,  and  the  winds  that  flow 

In  warmer  currents  bear  to  many  a  tree 

A  subtile  impulse  that  exquisitely 

Goes  wavering  upward  till  new  blossoms  blow 

And  tender  tips  of  green  the  branches  know 

Melodious  with  the  murmur  of  the  bee. 

Yet  I  forget  not,  thro'  keen  winter  days 

Your  kindly  arms  outstretched  did  keep  the  herds, 

And  now  within  your  pleasant  rooms  the  birds 

Watched  o'er  by  you  sing  love's  own  tenderest  lays ; 

Their  nestlings  safe,  lulled  by  your  \vhispered  words 

And  that  great  wind-harp  which  a  spirit  plays. 


57 


Blue  £>fctes  anlr 


Now  upon  the  soul's  broad  hearthstone 

lav  the  crimson  brands  for  lighting, 
With  the  charm  of  touch  and  whisper 

wake  the  bright  warm-hearted  flume, 
Till  it,  rising,  kisses  softly  all  the 

arches  bending  o'er  it, 
Till  the  winged  sparks  go  singing  thro' 

the  night  Love's  holy  name. 

Lusty  mistletoe  be  bringing,  boughs  of 

cedars,  wreaths  of  holly  ; 
To  each  heart  a  cup  of  laughter 

touched  by  gracious  vestal  lips, 
Now  the  disc  of  every  sorrow  joy 

shall  circle  with  a  halo, 
As  the  sun  hangs  golden  banners 

round  the  shadow  of  eclipse. 

Long  within  the  soul,  God's  Temple,  dark 

ness  festooned  hung  forbidding, 
Draped  the  windows  barred  and  leaden, 

draped  the  gnarled  and  studded  door  — 
While  with  fitful  flare  and  flicker 

danced  the  Yule-light  hollow  hearted 
As  wild  Superstition  moving,  dancing 

on  the  stained  floor. 


Book  of 


Long  the  angry  sparks  sang  :  "  Hatred  !  " 

hate  of  brother  unto  brother  ; 
Long  the  mistletoe  was  severed  with 

a  sacrificial  knife 
Sheathed  oft  within  the  bosom 

of  a  hapless  human  victim  : 
Telling  of  a  hideous  worship 

and  the  creed  of  life  for  life. 

But  at  last  an  oriel  window  set 

toward  the  hills  of  morning, 
Where  with  reverent  brows  uplifted 

pray  the  mighty  peaks  of  Hope, 
Thrilled  with  prescient  thrill  of 

glory  as  the  Day  Star  shone  upon  it, 
Thrilled  as  thrill  a  parent  watcher 

'neath  a  blessed  horoscope. 

Sudden  dust  that  dropt  and  vanished 

fell  the  rotten  folds  of  darkness, 
Thro'  the  oriels'  veins  translucent  ran 

a  ruby  current  mild  ; 
Clusters,  there,  of  roses  blossomed,  lilies 

swung  their  snowy  censers 
O'er  a  mother,  and  a  manger,  and 

the  sweet  face  of  a  child. 


59 


Blue     fcfes  anlr 


\t-.    All  the  Temple  was  transfigured  and 
CtlJC        a  silent  benediction 
(Continued)    p^  on  cedar,  fell  on  holly,  fell 

on  pearl-strung  mistletoe. 
"  God,"  they  murmured,  "  and  not  Odin," 

"Christ,"  they  murmured,  "and  not  Balder,  " 
And  awed  Superstition,  kneeling, 
heard  forgiveness  whispered  low. 

Swung  the  door  upon  the  hinges, 

and  the  angels  of  God's  Heaven 
Straightway  came  within  the  Temple 

singing  songs  of  holy  cheer. 

Sang  they  all  of  Jesus  blessed, 

sang  they  of  His  peace  eternal 
Spanning  all  the  broken  earth 

clouds  like  an  emerald  rainbow  clear. 

Stay,  sweet  angels,  ever  singing  carols 

to  my  Lord  and  Saviour, 
Sing  :  "  He  oped  the  orient  portals 

with  a  rosy  baby  hand  !  " 
Sing  :   "  He  suffered  more  than 

martyr,  making  earth  with  feet  of  sorrow, 
While  behind  him  joys  and  blessings 

blossomed  in  the  desert  land  !  " 


60 


iSooit  of 


ttl*5  APOSTROPHE. 

Lord  we  stand  upon  the  margin 

(Continued) 

oi  that  ocean  stretching  outward 
Far  beyond  the  isles  of  knowledge, 

far  beyond  the  mount  of  Light  — 
Only  Love  can  hear  its  billows 

breaking  on  the  shore  Hereafter, 
Only  Faith  can  see  Thy  Heaven 

bathed  in  everlasting  light. 

Then  in  this  Thy  dearest  gift-time 

when  to  us  Thyself  Thou  gavest, 
Give  us  Faith  and  Love  to  guide 

us  teaching  of  Heaven  and  Thee  — 
Lest  we  fall  to  idle  talking  with 

doubt  walking  close  beside  us, 
Lest  we  say,  with  Him  :   "  Hope 

never  !  all  beyond  is  shoreless  Sea  !" 


61 


Blue 


anlr 


Oh,  the  peach  is  in  pink  and  in  white  is  the  cherry, 
And  the  pipe  of  the  bluebird  is  mellow  and  merry, 

And  the  little  frogs  cheep 

From  the  green  rushes,  deep, 

And  the  baby  clouds  lie  in  the  blue  fast  asleep 
Asleep  —  While  the  bluebird  is  merry. 

At  the  edge  of  the  wood  how  the  maple  is  glowing, 
And  the  windflowers  nod  to  the  creek  in  its  flowing, 

And  the  sap's  running  free 

In  the  heart  of  each  tree, 

And  the  little  leaves  laugh  in  their  nest  all  aglee 
Aglee  —  and  the  creek  answers,  flowing. 


13ooh  of 


Dim  are  the  emeralds  of  dead  Summer's  crown, 

And  to  her  throne,  where  rubies  flash  and  glow, 

October  comes  with  queenly  step  and  slow, 

Pale  asters  braided  in  her  tresses  brown. 

The  blue  curled  banners*of  the  mist  hang  down, 

The  milkweeds  bolls  are  white  with  silken  snow, 

The  thistle's  silver  argosies  out-blow, 

And  insect  voices  chant  their  Queen's  renown. 

With  tender  eyes  of  happy,  dreamful  light 

She  looks  abroad  on  spreading  fallow  lands, 

On  soft  gray  skies  and  wooded  hillsides  bright, 

The  aged  Year's  offering  in  her  outstretched  hands  : 

The  partridge  pipes  a  welcome  :  leaping  white 

The  brook  sings  welcome  from  its  leaf-strewn"sands. 


Blue     fctes  antr 


•fflty  My  heart  with  longing  turns  to  meadows  lowly, 

focart  That  lie  wood-broidered,  in  brown,  twilight  lands  ; 

tottj)  Where  come  the  constant  stars,  God's  watchers  holy, 

Longing  And  Peace  awaits  me  with  dear  welcoming  hands. 

My  heart  with  longing  turns  to  thoughts  that  guide  me 
To  one  white  brook  that  knows  the  woodland  ways, 

Where  thro'  glad  hours,  with  Poesy  beside  me, 
I  dream  the  dreams  of  June's  bloom-scented  days. 

My  heart  with  longing  turns  to  sunsets  burning 
A  splendid  flame  low  thro'  the  frosty  wood 

Netted  with  naked  twigs  ;  ah,  thither  turning 
I  greet  the  oaks,  a  sturdy  brotherhood. 

The  days  we  toil,  the  days  we  toil  and  languish 

Brought  slaves  of  Mammon,  answering  to  his  whip  ! 

How  much  they  bring  of  heartache,  bitter  anguish, 
God's  happiest  children  bear  nor  purse  nor  scrip. 

But  far  away  within  some  quiet  valley 

They  walk  with  dawn,  or  darkness,  led  of  stars 

To  thoughts  of  beauty,  thoughts  that  musically 
Fall  soft  as  moonlight  where  no  discord  mars. 

O  God,  of  all  this  slavery  I'm  a-weary  ! 

Thy  hills,  Thy  fields,  Thy  streams,  Thy  winds  are  free 
While  I,  their  master,  in  a  bondage  dreary, 

Grind  in  the  mills  that  shall  at  last  grind  me. 

64 


Uoofc  of 


Help  me  to  break  these  bonds,  these  fetters  galling  ! 

Lo  !   on  Thy  hills,  lit  with  a  splendid  light, 
Thou  dost  reveal  Thyself,  Thy  glory  falling 

About  Thee  as  a  garment  flaming  bright. 

(Contnued) 

O  Vision  of  Eternal  Beauty,  Vision  Holy  ! 

Blest  is  thy  radiance  on  my  longing  heart  — 
A  light  to  lighten  me  in  pathways  lowly 

And  I  arise,  for  joy  and  strength  Thou  art. 


21  ;fftooti    I  passed  a  lonely  house  upon  a  hill, 

And  in  the  west  the  winter  sun  was  low — 
While  fragrant  offering  of  the  forest  still 

The  thin,  blue  spirals  of  the  smoke  rose  slow. 

And  then  it  seemed,  I  cannot  tell  thee  how, 
I  was  a  brother  to  the  trees  and  stood 

With  sturdy  trunk  and  curved,  up-reaching  bough 
One  of  the  patriarchs  of  that  gray  old  wood. 

The  days  went  by  in  vailed  procession,  dreams 
Stirred  in  my  fibre,  dreams  fantastic,  dark, 

Like  deepest  night  lit  by  the  fitful  gleams 
Of  smouldering  camp-fires  in  a  forest  stark. 

I  felt  the  touch  of  unseen  finger-tips 
Dim-sensed ;  a  hand  relaxed  and  cold  ; 

I  heard  the  babble  of  unmeaning  lips, 

And  shivered  groping  downward  in  the  mould. 

What  was  it  that  I  clasped  there  cloven  thro' 

With  axe  of  stone?  a  something  fleshless,  round  ; 

And  memory  waked  within  me  and  I  knew 

Long  years  before  blood  darkly  stained  this  ground. 


66 


CI)e    What  dreams  have  these  gray  hills  that  silent  lie, 
|)UIg    The  sun-bright  cornfields  rustling  at  their  feet? 
The  wind  that  brings  new  color  to  the  wheat 
Purring  the  snow-white  argosies  of  the  sky 
Rain- laden  for  some  distant  land  and  dry? 
Dream  they  of  that  dark  time  when,  wild  and  fleet, 
The  storm  rushed  shrieking  by,  and  burning  sleet 
Fell  hissing  in  the  floods,  when  lifted  high 
They  took  on  form  in  agony  of  fire, 
And  sinking  down  their  Titan  Mother  Earth 
Seemed,  groaning,  with  this  labor  to  expire 
Leaving  them  trembling  in  their  swaddling  girth  ? 
See,  sullenly  behind  them  storm-clouds  dire 
Unbidden  spectres  of  their  fiery  birth  ! 


3Smeatl)  Blue  &fcfes  anir 


The  red-wing  blackbird,  minstrel  of  the  Spring, 
Returned,  a  wanderer  from  the  Southland  sang 
In  gusty  hills  of  March  his  roundelay  — 

And  all  the  greening  hills  were  listening 
To  hear  his  mellow  voice  that  sweetly  rang 
Across  the  meadow  in  a  song  so  gay. 

"  Love,  love,"  sang  he,  "  the  sunbeam  loves  the  dew, 
The  bee  the  blossom,  and  the  tawny  stream 
Seeks  broad  lagoons  the  haunts  of  lilies  fair. 

"The  clouds  all  day  lie  nestling  'gainst  the  blue, 
The  glow-worms  woo  the  stars,  the  tall  oaks  dream 
Of  April  with  a  violet  in  her  hair. 

"  Seek  out  a  mate  ;  soon  redbuds  on  the  hill, 
And  dogwoods  white,  will  blossom  ;  build  a  nest 
And  weave  into  it  all  your  brightest  hopes. 

"  No  sweeter  happiness  the  heart  can  fill, 
No  other  way  leads  into  such  true  rest  ; 
Seek  out  a  mate,  and  up  the  sunny  slopes 

"  Of  rainbowed  lands  go  singing  with  your  dear 
Or  by  the  misty  willows  o'er  the  brook 
Where  bright  Spring-beauties  open  to  the  light. 

"  Love,  love,"  sang  he,  "  'tis  love-time  of  the  year, 
And  hearts  are  lost  and  won  with  but  a  look  ; 
Go  build  a  nest  while  all  the  world  is  bright." 

68 


JForctacte  At  eve,  a  worshiper,  I  stood 

Within  the  temple  of  the  wood. 

Still  thro'  the  western  windows  came 
Long  slender  shafts  of  rosy  flame. 

Aeolian  vespers  breathed  low 

Did  tremble  o'er  my  heart,  and  flow. 

And  kneeling  reverently  there 
I  felt  the  circling  arms  of  prayer. 

Then,  mighty- voiced  harmony, 
I  heard  a  song  of  victory. 

And  from  my  soul  an  answering  voice 
Sang  full  of  rapture :   "  Soul  rejoice  !  " 

"  Rejoice,  O  Soul,  for  thou  shalt  see 
The  face  of  Immortality  !  " 

And  lifting  up  my  chastened  eyes, 
Behold  the  walls  of  Paradise  ! 

A  misty  splendor  lifted  white 
Above  the  utmost  peaks  of  Night. 

Then  failed  my  vision,  but  I  knew 
The  voice  within  my  soul  was  true. 

And  from  the  holy  stars  there  fell 
The  benediction  :   "All  is  well !" 


69 


Blue  &Jms  antr  ffirag 


When  shadows  creep  along  the  bar, 
And  m  tne  rose  there  comes  a  star, 
And  trees  grow  black  against  the  sky 
Where  ripples  break  1  hear  him  cry 
Killdee!  Killdee  ! 

He  cuts  the  dusk  with  silver  wings, 
And  round  the  level  bar  he  swings, 
And  up  and  down  in  flashing  flight 
He  screams  across  the  van  of  Night 
Killdee!  Killdee! 

Ah,  memories  that  come  to  me 
With  thought  of  days  no  more  to  be  ; 
And  tears,  as  floating  with  the  stream 
I  hear  him  cry  as  in  a  dream  — 

Killdee!   Killdee! 


70 


JSook  of 


^Horning;    A  dappled  sky  of  gold  and  tender  blue 

Whereon  are  traced,  an  etching  fine  and  rare, 
A  great  elm's  graceful  top  of  fan-like  flare 
And  one  tall  poplar  rising  straight  and  true ; 
Now  from  deep  cups  of  frost  doth  Youth  renew 
His  lusty  strength,  and  breasts  the  sparkling  air, 
While  life  beats  high  and  earth's  surpassing  fair 
With  that  old  beauty  which  is  ever  new. 
Ah  me,  my  heart,  we  too  must  dance  a  spring 
Here  on  the  crisp,  white  sward,  we,  too,  be  young, 
And  wear  no  more  the  chains  of  lethargy  — 
Trim  all  our  fancies  to  Hope's  upward  wing, 
And  live  as  joyously  as  brooks  that  tongue 
Their  silvery  music,  coursing  down  to  sea. 


Blue  &fctes  anlr  ffifrag 


A  breath  in  the  boughs,  and  the  little 

leaves  stirred  in  their  sleep, 
And  the  stars  passed  out  in  the  gray  of 

the  eastern  deep, 
Then,  woven  by  dreams,  the  rose,  and 

the  pearl,  and  the  blue, 
For  the  white  feet  of  Dawn,  and  the 

dewdrops  trembled  and  knew. 


of 


I'm  sick  of  the  smoky  city 
Where  busy  cares  confine, 

And  I  long  for  the  mountain  heights  where  sweet 
Is  the  balmy  breath  of  the  pine. 

Ah,  there  are  the  crystal  fountains, 
And  there  is  a  restful  shrine  ; 
And  there  I  would  cease  from  toil,  and  breathe 
The  healing  breath  of  the  pine. 

I'm  sick  of  the  endless  battle 
Oh,  if  parole  were  mine  ! 
So  far,  far-off  seem  the  heights  of  peace 

Where  the  unstained  banners  shine  ! 

I  faint  in  the  ceaseless  conflict  ! 
Great  Captain  strength  is  Thine  ! 
Help,  oh  help  !  that  at  last  I  may  reach 
Rest,  rest  on  the  hills  Divine. 


73 


&fctes  attlr  ©rag 


31 


No  herald  sounds  his  name, 
Unknown  save  to  a  few, 

Yet  is  his  armor  bright, 
And  he  is  leal  and  true. 

He  strives,  yet  takes  no  shame 

If  he  to  dust  be  trod, 
He  strikes  with  all  his  might, 

And  leaves  the  rest  with  God, 


74 


Book  of 


When  from  the  beeches,  old, 

Flakes  of  red  gold 
Fall  by  the  river,  gray, 
Or  lightly  drift  away 
Upon  its  current,  cold,  — 
When  from  the  dreaming  wold 

Passes  the  day  — 

When  shadows  drowse  and  sleep 

In  hollows  deep, 
And  quails  pipe  here  and  there, 
And  white  frost  stings  the  air,  — 
When  bright  leaves  lie  a-heap, 
And  winding  woodways  keep 

A  welcome  rare  — 

Come,  when  thro'  Sundown's  gate, 

Yet  roseate, 

The  peaks  of  sunset  land 
Bathed  in  clear  amber  stand, 
While  Twilight's  pennons  wait, 
Low-drooped,  till  Night,  in  state, 

Leads  on  her  band. 

Come,  Sweetheart,  then,  to  me 

With  laughter  free  ! 
And  on  thy  cheeks  the  glow 
That  April's  redbuds  know, 


75 


Blue  Cities  antr  (ffirag 


3Tntotta*    Come  in  love's  witchery, 

tUHl    Curls  kissing  lovingly 
(continued)  Thy  throat  of  snow  ! 

Come  !  ah,  my  pulses  feel 
A  rich  warmth  steal 
Along  them  strangely  sweet : 
They  know  thy  coming  feet, 
Thy  laughter's  silvery  peal, 
And  to  that  music  leal 

Love's  measures  beat. 


76 


Book  of 


A  ribbon  spun  of  threads  of  gold 
It  winds  thro'  undulating  green, 
Gray  mists  sleep  in  the  hollows,  cold, 
The  ridges  dance  in  jeweled  sheen  ; 
Like  roseate  clouds  the  redbuds  glow, 
And  thro'  the  woodlands,  tinged  with  hope, 
The  dogwood's  stars  as  pure  as  snow 
Shine  in  a  happy  horoscope. 

The  mocking-bird  is  joyous  there 
In  wild  parabolas  of  song, 
The  oaks  hang  out  their  tassels  fair, 
And  there  glad-hearted  blackbirds  throng. 
And  when,  as  soft  as  thistle-down, 
The  dusk  has  fallen,  comes,  in  white, 
Sweet  Hesper  thro'  the  shadows,  brown, 
And  scatters  there  the  myrrh  of  night. 


77 


t3emat|)  Blue  Cities  anlr  (ffirag 


&trimbon    Not  with  clash  of  arms, 
Not  'midst  war's  alarms, 
Thy  splendid  work  was  done, 
Thy  great  victory  won. 

Unknown,  thro'  field  and  brake, 
By  calm  or  stormy  lake, 
Lured  by  swift  passing  wings  — 
Songs  that  a  new  world  sings  — 

Thou  didst  untiring  go 
Led  by  thine  ardor's  glow, 
Cheered  by  thy  kindling  thought 
Beauty  thy  hand  had  wrought. 

Leaving  thy  matchless  page 
Gift  to  a  later  age 
That  would  revere  thy  name  — 
Build  for  thee,  surely,  fame. 

O  to  have  been  with  thee, 
In  that  wild  life  and  free, 
While  all  thy  birds  passed  by 
Under  the  new  world  sky  ! 

O  to  have  heard  the  song 
Of  that  glad-hearted  throng, 
Ere  yet  the  settlers  came 
Giving  the  woods  to  flame  ! 


78 


of 


&tUmbon    O  to  have  with  thee  gone 
(continued)    Up  the  white  steps  of  Dawn ! 
Or  where  the  burning  west 
Crimsoned  the  wild  drake's  breast ! 

Yet  better  than  bays  we  bring 
Are  the  woods  whispering 
When  life  and  leaf  are  new 
Under  the  tender  blue  ! 

Master,  awake  !  for  May 
Comes  on  her  rainbowed  way  — 
Hear  thou  bird-song  again 
Sweeter  than  praise  of  men  ! 


79 


JSeneatJ)  Blue  Cities  antr  ffirag 


O,  Serving  Brothers,  in  the  fight 
The  foe  will  often  taunt  you  ! 

But  if  your  souls  be  strong  and  white 
There  shall  no  danger  daunt  you  ! 

A  ring  of  fire  your  swords  shall  flame 

Around  your  Leader's  Cross  and  Name  ! 

Then  ask  not  for  a  nobler  thing 

Than  to  be  truly  serving  ; 
To  love  that  Spotless  One,  your  King, 

With  love  that  knows  no  swerving, 
To  strike  like  Galahad  the  pure, 
To  murmur  not  and  still  endure. 

Behold  the  battlements  aglow 

Above  the  clouds  that  darkle  ! 

And  round  the  lifted  domes  of  snow 
See  fervent  light  out-sparkle  ! 

The  Holy  City  !  God  waits  there 

To  give  you  rest  and  garments  fair. 


80 


iSoofe  ot 


There  is  a  beauty  in  the  Winter  sky 
5Daj>0    That  Summer  knows  not,  a  diviner  glow, 
A  chaster  coloring,  and  the  hills  of  snow 
Are  nearer  Heaven  than  the  hills  that  lie 
All  indolent  in  bloom  ;  the  winds  that  sigh 
Thro'  brakes  of  drifted  leaves  and  murmur  low 
Their  threnodies,  a  peace  more  perfect  know 
Than  those  that  dally  with  the  butterfly. 
Great  thoughts  are  born  in  many  a  leafless  way, 
And  faith  that  fails  not  when  the  stars  are  hid  ; 
And  courage  steadfast  as  the  rocks  which  break 
The  ocean's  rage  —  and  spirits  such  as  they 
Who  built  this  land  —  earth's  noblest  pyramid, 
Which  God  forbid  the  storms  of  Time  shall  shake. 


81 


BeneatJ)  ISIue  Cities  antr  ©frag 


With  broken  ranks  and  flags  that  fly  no  more 
Eetreat    Like  joyous  falcons,  the  torn  cornstalks  go 
Into  the  valley,  sullenly  and  slow  : 
Yet  on  the  hilltop  stands  the  last  tall  corps, 
The  valiant  rearguard  battle-stained  and  sore 
For  this  defeat,  braving  the  hosts  of  snow 
And  charging  sleet,  while  shrilly  trumpets  blow, 
And  overhead  rolls  on  the  steady  roar 
Of  the  Wind's  artillery.     O  Love  !  O  Peace  ! 
Blest  be  your  coming  to  earth's  battlefields 
With  seeds,  that,  springing,  hide  this  wreck  of  war  ! 
The  golden  harvests  and  the  fair  increase, 
And  that  good  measure  which  contentment  yields  ; 
Till  only  greed  and  wrong  shall  men  abhor. 


Book  of 


Slftct-    The  burial  was  over,  and  the  words, 

The  blest,  immortal  words  of  Christ  were  said. 

The  neighbors  had  departed,  he  alone 

Stood  by  the  grave  and  watched  the  sunset  flame, 

And  mused  on  life  and  death,  and  on  the  change 

Now  come  to  him,  beholding  her  no  more. 

Close  by  his  feet  the  violets  bowed  their  heads 

Like  little  children  lisping  evening  prayers  ; 

The  wind-flowers  swung  white  censers,  and  a  cloud, 

Blown  like  a  snow  wreath  o'er  the  deeps  of  blue, 

Wore  sudden  glory  and  so  passed  away. 

Ah,  very  oft  he  had  come  here  with  her 

And  watched  the  flowers  and  the  greening  fields, 

And  dogwoods  drifted  white  against  the  hills. 

She  had  so  loved  the  Spring,  in  simple  faith 

Accepting  it  as  pledge  of  life  to  come ; 

And  ere  she  died  was  lifted  up  to  see 

Far  thro'  the  open  door  the  purple  glow 

Of  redbuds  waking  at  the  forest's  edge, 

The  bloom  of  nearer  orchards,  cherry,  peach, 

The  flocking  blackbirds  and  the  April  sky  ; 

The  spicy-fragrant  raindrops  pattering  loud 

Upon  the  mossy  roof,  the  Springtime  sun 

Flooding  the  trees  with  splendor,  and  she  smiled, 

And  sinking  on  her  pillow  murmured  oft 

The  lines  of  some  loved  anthem,  and  so  slept. 

O  memory,  memory,  thro'  what  tender  scenes 

83 


Blue  &fcfes  antr  ©frag 


Misty  with  tears  he  walked  again  with  her  ! 
Low-voiced  was  she,  and  quaint,  dear  accents  gave 
continued     An  old-time  flavor  to  her  homely  speech ; 
And  all  her  hair  was  silvered,  and  her  eyes 
Held  twinkling  laughters  in  their  deep  blue  depths 
And  largess  of  true  tears  for  those  who  weep. 
And  oft  she  leaned  upon  him,  saying  :   "  Son 
You  are  the  staff  of  my  old  useless  age 
And  God  will  bless  you  ! " 

Homeward  thro'  the  dusk 

He,  passing,  treasured  these  sweet  words  of  hers 
And  to  his  grief  they  were  as  precious  balm. 
So  when  he  reached  the  creek  where  lightly  spanned 
The  rustic  bridge,  a  dear,  familiar  place, 
There  bubbled  in  his  heart  a  song  that  flowed 
To  music  of  the  ripples,  thus  it  ran  : 

I  follow  on,  I  follow  on, 

The  way  I  cannot  see, 
But  all  the  day  and  all  the  night 

Thou  callest  unto  me, 
And  thro'  the  dusk,  and  thro'  the  light 

I  follow  after  thee. 

I  follow  on,  I  follow  on, 
How  loving  are  thy  feet 
That  go  before  me  in  the  way 


84 


of 


Unto  that  valley  sweet  — 
That  valley  where  the  blessed  stay 
(Continued)  And  love  is  all  complete. 

I  follow  on,  I  follow  on, 

I  know  that  thou  art  near  ; 
My  soul  looks  out  upon  thy  soul 

A  vision  sweet  and  clear  — 
About  thy  brow  an  aureole 

My  sainted  mother,  dear. 


Blue  ^fctes  antr  (Stag 

9t    I  met  my  angel  in  a  strange,  wild  place ; 
I  shall  not  soon  forget  his  steadfast  eyes, 
Before  whose  gaze  no  mantle  is  disguise, 
That  fixed  on  mine,  and  yet  meseemed  love's  grace 
He  gently  wore,  nor  came  he  to  abase 
My  stricken  soul,  nor  with  a  scourge  chastise  : 
But  looked  as  Christ  on  Peter,  sorrowful-wise, 
Until  with  tear-stained  eyes  I  hid  my  face, 
To  feel,  at  last,  his  hand  upon  my  head, 
To  hear  his  words  of  admonition  grave 
That  gave  me  strength  as  when  true  prayer  is  said  - 
That  buoyed  me  up,  a  strong  compelling  wave 
Of  sympathy,  that  whereat  I  was  dead 
I  lived  again  thro'  cheer  and  hope  he  gave. 


86 


of 


bet 


Delightful  days  are  these  when  Autumn  masks 

In  Summer's  mantle  and  with  sun-tipped  wand 

Waves  off  the  jeweled  daggers  of  the  frost. 

Now  from  their  setting  of  the  lustiest  green 

Glow  the  flame  flowers  of  geranium  ; 

The  amorous  cypress  holding  up  his  arms 

Would  clasp  the  stars,  the  wanton  touch-me-nots, 

Gay  revelers  in  red  and  pink,  and  white, 

Hobnob  together,  and  a  conscious  rose 

Blushes  as  if  'twere  Springtime  ;   scarce  a  leaf 

Falls  withered  from  the  maples,  and  the  Wind 

Oft  fluttering  down  from  some  far  height  of  snow 

Fans  with  its  fragrant  wings  the  brow  of  Earth. 

With  patient  love  the  Morn  ing-Glory  lifts 

Her  shrunken  palms  aloft  in  prayer  for  dew. 

Long  gossamers  blow  silvern  in  the  sun, 

Or  link  the  sturdy  corn  that  half  is  clad 

In  russet-gray  and  half  in  youthful  green  — 

Far-off,  a  golden  band,  the  woodland  belts 

The  quiet  pastures  where  the  cattle  browse  ; 

And  yet  beyond  aie  hills  that  purpling  rise 

In  low,  round  billows  broken,  here  and  there, 

By  giant  branches  flung  against  the  sky 

In  silhouette  ;  and  then  the  softer  haze  — 

Where  Earth  and  Heaven  meet  —  that  unknown  land 

The  dwelling-place  of  mystery  and  dreams. 


87 


Blue  Cities  antr  (ffirag 


And  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  frost-white  hills 
And  a  splendid  star  in  the  rose  o'  the  dawn, 
And  a  sense  of  brawn,  and  a  thought  that  thrills, 
And  the  song  of  a  bird  in  the  treetops  heard  — 
And  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  frost-  white  hills  ! 

And  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  sunrise  paths  ! 
When  the  light  drips  down  in  a  golden  shower  ; 
And  a  sense  of  power,  and  the  dewdrop  baths, 
And  the  blood  running  free  like  the  sap  in  a  tree 
And  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  sunrise  paths  ! 

And  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  upland  way  ! 
Where  white  and  cool  are  the  wings  o'  the  mist, 
Where  our  lips  are  kissed  by  the  maiden  Day, 
And  life  has  a  spring  like  a  bow  a-  string, 
Oh,  it's  hey  and  it's  ho  for  the  upland  way. 


88 


ot 


Scene.  —  Moonrise    in   the   garden   of  Yucay. 
Oello  discovered  seated  near  a  parterre  wrought  in 
silver  and  gold  in  imitation   of  growing  maize. 
ttr    The  plashing  of  a  fountain  is  faintly  heard. 

OELLO. 

"  How  pleasant  'tis  to  feel  upon  my  brow 
The  soothing  touch  of  gentle  guardian  winds 
That  tiptoe  thro'  these  quiet  halls  of  Night. 
How  fragrant  are  their  garments,  and  they  sow 
Bright  seeds  of  pleasantness  that  spring  in  dreams, 
And     '  peace '     they    ever     murmur  —  'rest     and 
peace.' " 

(Francisco  steps  noiselessly  from    the    shadow 
and  kneels  at  her  feet.) 


OELLO. 


u  Francisco  !  " 


FRANCISCO. 
"  Yes,  dear  love,  fear  not,  'tis  I." 

OELLO. 

"  Why  art  thou  come?     An  hundred  jealous  eyes 
Watch  here,  and  from  these   flowery  walls   may 

spring 
Swift,  thirsting  arrows  winged  with  bitter  hate  !  " 

89 


Blue     fcfes  anfc 


FRANCISCO. 

,  ,  But  one  brief  hour  ,     Thou>lt  not  d       me  that  ?  » 

OELLO. 

(Continued) 

"  Ah,  tempt  me  not  with  such  a.  priceless  hour, 
Most  radiant  jewel  on  the  breast  of  Time  ! 
Lest,  yielding,  I  should  lose  thee  evermore  !  " 

FRANCISCO. 

"One   moment,   then!      See  wrought  upon  this 

scarf, 

In  richest  tracery  of  gold,  a  cross, 
Thou  dost  remember,  dear,  that  pleasant  day 
1  lingered  by  thy  side  and  thou  did'st  ask 
The  meaning  of  this  symbol,  and  I  told 
Of  my  sweet  Lord,  Jesu,  the  only  God. 
This  scarf  I  always  wear,  this  symbol  pressed 
Close  to  my  heart  ;  to-morrow  night  I'll  send 
To  thee,  with  this,  Huascar  of  thy  race, 
I  saved  his  life  at  Cuzco,  come  with  him. 
.And  then  —  dear  heart  — 

OELLO. 
"''  I  hear  the  war  drums  beat  !  " 

FRANCISCO. 
*4  One  kiss!  " 

90 


Uooit  of 


OELLO. 
44  Francisco,  O  my  love,  farewell  !  " 

ter         Scene  .  —  Night     in     the     palace    of      Yucay. 
(Continued)    Enter  Oello  with  her  father  and  his  nobles.    After 
a  short  prelude  a  minstrel  sings. 

SONG. 

"  In  the  thickest  of  the  battle, 

In  the  fiercest  of  the  fight, 
Where  the  lines  are  locked  and  writhing 

And  the  whirring  arrows  smite, 
Cheering  on  the  hearts  beneath  it, 

As  it  crests  the  battle's  wave, 
There  is  seen  the  rainbow  banner 

Of  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 

"  Where  the  bucklers  clash  together, 

And  the  battle-axes,  red, 
Rise  and  fall,  and  bloodier,  faster, 

Pile  the  awful  heaps  of  dead, 
Where  the  gushing  tides  of  crimson 

All  the  trampling  sandals  lave, 
There  outgleams  the  coraquenque 

Of  the  bravest  of  the  brave." 

THE  INCA. 

t;  Thou'rt  listless,  Oello,  a  battle  won 
9* 


iSeneatf)  Blue  £>fcfes  anlr  ©rag 

Should'st  make  thy  step  more  buoyant,  light  thine 


3Datt(rb=    With  beams  exultant,  make  thy  cheek  to  glow, 

tit    And  thrill  thy  soul  with  songs  of  victory. 
(Continued)    Thou'rt  pale  !     thou'rt  cold  !     A  daughter  thou  of 

kings 

And  heard'st  yon  minstrel  chant  thy  father's  praise, 
And  hid'st  thy  face  and  sighed.     It  was  not  well  !  " 

OELLO. 
"  O  noble  Inca  —  father  —  " 

THE  INCA. 

"  Speak  not  now  ! 

Thy  voice  hath  lost  its  music,  it  is  faint, 
Uncertain  like  a  harp  by  novice  touched. 
Sit  here  and  thou  shalt  hear  me  speak  instead. 
Perchance,  to  hear  thy  father  tell  the  fight, 
Thou'lt  get  more  courage  in  that  downcast  eye. 
Before  the  tassels  of  this  morn  shook  down 
Rich  golden  pollen  on  the  silent  hills, 
Our  bravest,  stepping  cougar-like,  marched  thro' 
The  city  gate,  and  gained  the  wooded  slope 
Behind  the  Spanish  camp  —  Each  heart  beat  quick, 
Each  hand  was  clenched  on  battle-axe  or  bow, 
Each  nostril  quivered  and  each  eye  was  set 
To  look  on  death.     There  in  the  dew-dusk  lay 


JSoofc  of 


it? 

(Continued) 


The  hated  foe  —  asleep  save  here  and  there 

A  spectral  picket  glided  back  and  forth. 

Then  shield  to  shield,  a  line  of  plumes  that  tossed 

Like  tall  maize  shaken  by  a  sudden  wind, 

We  rushed  upon  them  beating  them  to  earth. 

Some  shrieking  fled,  some  snatched  their  arms  and 

fought 

As  fights  the  Oscelot,  hedged  round  with  spears. 
One  warrior  among  them,  gleaming  bright 
In  burnished  metal  silver-like  and  fair, 
O'er  threw  five  nobles,  shouting  his  war-cry. 
Then,  coming  in  the  press,  I  dashed  my  shield 
Upon  his  head  and  struck  him  with  my  axe. 
He,  reeling,  fell,  and  fallen  rose  no  more. 
This  fabric,  richer  than  Vicuna  gives, 
He  wore  upon  his  breast  —  See  Oello  !  " 

(He  shows  Francisco's  Scarf.) 

"Lift  up  thine  eyes,  see  here  this  figure  wrought 
In  gold  upon  —  Why  thou  art  trembling  —  What  1 
Speak  to  me  my  daughter  !  " 

(To  attendants.)      "  There,  tenderly, 
Let  her  be  carried  hence,  strange  humor  this, 
I  will  know  more  of  it." 

(Exit.) 


93 


Blue  Cities  antr  (ffirag 


2tt    Here  dwelleth  peace  and  quiet  such  as  lies 

About  the  steps  of  Dusk  when  far  afield, 
tlljrton'g    And  he  sleeps  well  for  whom  the  cannon  pealed, 
Static    And  bugles  blew  their  wild,  war  melodies. 
Now  glossy  tendrils  of  the  ivy  rise 
To  clasp  his  name  and  wreathe  his  honored  shield, 
The  pilgrim  seasons  here  their  tribute  yield  ; 
And  stars  keep  watch  with  bright  unsleeping  eyes  ; 
And  one  white  shaft,  as  stainless  as  his  name 
We  hold  the  first,  bears  witness  with  this  spot, 
That  they  who  met  the  battle's  shock  and  flame 
For  truth  and  country  shall  not  be  forgot. 
Sweet  be  their  rest  and  ever  pure  their  fame, 
And  theirs  the  glory  of  the  heroes'  lot. 


of 


Marvelous  color  !  violet  and  gold, 
on  t()e    Rare  rose,  pale  emerald,  and  tranquil  blue, 
Ettoer    Long  radiate  streamers  of  a  fiery  hue, 

A  wealth  of  Argonaut  fleeces  fold  on  fold, 

All  mirrored  by  the  river  and  far  rolled, 

In  softer  splendor  than  the  sky  e'er  knew, 

Against  the  fringing  willows  that  imbrue 

Their  blossomy  branches  in  the  ripples  cold. 

Our  oars  drop  jewels,  and  our  widening  wake 

Flecked  with  bright  foam,  melts,  purpling,  into  rest. 

The  swift-winged  kildees  silvery  circles  make 

Against  this  old,  new  glory  of  the  West. 

Now  dreams  hold  tryst,  and  Dusk's  handmaidens  shake 

Fragrance  and  dewdrops  down  on  Night's  warm  breast. 


Blue  &feics  mtj 


It  lies  beyond  and  ever  yet  beyond  ! 
<£lnat--    The  stars  are  but  bright  milestones  on  the  way  ; 
tainnfalc    The  patient  climbing  feet  of  eons  gray, 

That  reach  it  not,  grow  weary  and  despond  ; 

Yet  doth  it  draw  us  with  its  mystic  bond 

Through  life,  through  death,  and  we  its  will  obey, 

And,  gazing  thitherward,  our  souls  for  aye 

Pass  up  and  onward  from  old  lessons  conned. 

Thus  is  our  happiness  in  endless  quest, 

Our  Heaven  in  striving  for  some  higher  sooth, 

In  going  on  our  everlasting  rest 

And  all  the  vigor  of  immortal  youth 

That  follows  alway  with  unflagging  zest 

The  strong,  white  pinions  of  the  angel  Truth. 


96 


Book  ot 


@£l)£     Here  in  the  quiet  hills  beside  the  way 
2DcSCttetI        That  dips  into  the  valley,  lone  it  stands  ; 

1)0  use    It's  doors  gape  wide,  and  from  their  gloom  and  gray 
The  beckoning  of  unseen  hands. 

Tall  weeds  surround  it  ashy-crowned  and  still, 
And  from  a  walnut  near  the  rain-crow  calls, 

And  one  dark  shadow,  sinuous  and  chill, 
Across  the  sagging  gable  crawls. 

The  way  is  o'ergrown  where  many  feet 

Passed  up  and  down  ;  where  oft  I  climbed  to  her 

When  day  had  fallen  and  the  fields  were  sweet, 
Dewy  sweet  in  the  twilight's  blur. 

Now  —  woods  with  buds  will  brighten,  and  the  leaves 
Drift  down  in  shining  showers  far  and  near, 

And  afterward  a  wandering  voice  which  grieves 
The  passing  glory  of  the  year. 

But  nevermore  along  the  hillside  path 
To  greet  me  coming  shall  I  see  her  face  ; 

And  I  am  left  with  but  love's  aftermath, 
A  memory  of  tender  grace. 


97 


Blue     fctes  anir 


Ah,  oftentimes  I  see  her  kneeling  there 

Before  the  Saviour,  and  a  perfume  sweet 

Diffuses  from  the  ointment  on  His  feet 

That  she  is  gently  wiping  with  her  hair, 

And  to  my  soul  no  vision  is  more  fair  ; 

Prophetic  love  that  hears  the  hammers  beat 

On  cruel  nails,  and  sees  the  winding  sheet, 

And  thus  the  Lord  for  burial  would  prepare. 

Oh,  Mary,  thou  hast  given  the  world  a  deed 

More  precious  than  thy  spikenard,  keeping  still 

Its  holy  beauty  in  these  far-off  years  ! 

And  burdened  hearts,  and  weary  feet  that  bleed 

Bless  thy  soft  touch,  Love's  fragrance  that  doth  fill 

The  world's  great  room,  the  sympathy  of  thy  tears. 


98 


JSoott  of 


How  fair  the  moon  is  this  calm  Summer  night, 

Like  some  young  Queen  borne  in  a  stately  barge 

Upon  a  clear,  deep  lake  with  silvery  marge 

And  fairy,  floating  islands  snowy  white 

Touched  with  faint  tints  of  iridescent  light. 

Meseems  she  sleeps,  and  each  with  pearly  targe 

Her  maidens  hold  her  loveliness  in  charge 

That  dreams  may  woo  her  into  realms  more  bright. 

Come  all  ye  spirits  of  the  dusk  and  dew, 

Of  leaves,  of  stars,  of  winds  that  whisper  low  ; 

With  sweet  influences  her  sleep  imbue 

Till  in  love's  ecstacy  her  pulses  glow. 

Soft,  soft  she  passes  out  into  the  blue, 

And  all  the  night  doth  richer  beauty  know. 


99 


Blue  &Iws  anlr  ©frag 


I  clasp  your  hands,  good  brother  trees, 

Your  welcome  is  full  sweet  ; 
CL  rrce    I'm  weary  of  the  ways  of  men, 
I  rest  me  at  your  feet. 

They  call  you  cold,  they  call  you  dumb, 
But  they  —  they  cannot  know 

The  speech  we  have,  the  golden  speech 
That  sets  our  hearts  aglow. 

Men  have  their  little  plans  and  fight, 

And  bicker  over  God, 
You  know  where'er  a  flower  blooms 

That  way  the  Master  trod. 


100 


of 


&flmttp    A  soul  that  strayed  in  the  paths  of  Heaven, 

A  seraph  soul  on  his  lonely  way, 
Chanting  his  song  in  the  purple  even  — 

(A  sad,  sweet  lay) 

Sang  :   "  Let  me  die  for  I  am  aweary, 
Let  me  darkling  fall  for  my  life  is  dreary." 

Then  up  from  the  twilight  world  at  his  feet, 
Up  from  the  purple  deeps  of  Even, 

There  came  a  voice,  ah,  tenderly  sweet, 
Into  his  Heaven  : 

"  Live  for  me,  love,  or  my  life  is  dreary, 

Live  for  me,  love,  or  my  way  is  aweary." 

And  flower-like,  in  a  dewy  vale, 

All  beautiful  with  love's  own  grace, 

Thro'  bright'ning  mists,  and  lily  pale 
He  saw  her  face. 

"  O,  love,  without  thee  my  life  is  aweary, 

And  the  paths  of  God's  Heaven  are  darkly  dreary  !  " 

And  nightly  he  like  a  star  in  Heaven, 

All  radiant  with  thoughts  of  her, 

Looks  down  thro'  the  purple  deep  of  Even 
Her  worshiper. 

"  Oh,  love,  without  thee  my  life  is  aweary, 

Oh,  love,  without  thee  my  Heaven  is  dreary." 


Blue    lws  anlr 


The  wind  and  the  leaves  all  day,  all  day, 

The  wind  and  the  restless  leaves, 
anH  tjje    Have  lain  asleep  in  a  valley  deep, 
Lratirs         In  a  valley  deep  where  a  spirit  grieves 
In  a  wood  that  is  old  and  gray. 

And  bright-browed  dreams  all  day,  all  day, 

Have  walked  in  that  valley  deep  — 
In  the  winding  miles  of  the  dim-lit  aisles, 

In  the  dim-lit  aisles  where  abideth  sleep, 
In  the  wood  that  is  old  and  gray. 

And  the  wind  is  a  woodman  bold  and  gay 
And  the  leaves  are  his  tawny  pack  ; 

Hello  and  hark  !  when  the  wood  is  dark, 

When  the  wood  is  dark  and  the  storm  clouds  black 

With  a  rush  they  are  off  and  away. 

Yet  often  they  frolic  at  play,  at  play, 

In  that  moss-loving  valley  deep  — 
When  their  hearts  are  light,  and  the  moon  all  in  white, 

The  moon  all  in  white  on  a  cloud-blown  steep 
Like  a  dream-loving  maid  doth  stray. 

And  oft  in  the  fragrant  calm  all  day 

The  wind  and  the  restless  leaves 
Lie  fast  asleep,  in  that  valley  deep, 

In  that  valley  deep  where  a  shadow  weaves 
Slumber  robes  cool  and  gray. 


of 


®I)C  And  the  bright-browed  leaves  all  day,  all  day, 
S?inl         Walk  then  in  that  valley  deep, 

anfc  H)t  In  the  winding  miles  of  the  dim-lit  aisles, 
Lcatiffi        In  the  dim-lit  aisles  where  abideth  sleep 

(Continued)  jn  the  WOO(J  that  is  old  and  gray. 


Blue  Cities  antr  ©rag 


31  little    How  fair  it  is,  this  little  lake  of  mine, 

This  little  mirror  in  God's  pleasant  room  — 
Set  round  with  willows,  where  primroses  bloom 
In  whose  still  depths  the  white  clouds  softly  shine. 

The  lilac  sky  of  sunset  and  the  glow 

Of  cumulus  peaks  here  underneath  the  green 
That  wavers  downward,  in  new  beauty  seen 

Melt  into  twilight,  and  the  stars  below 

Seem  like  great  pearls  in  purple  casket  set,' 
Or  like  white  cressets  in  a  vale  of  dreams 
That  beckon  ever  with  their  misty  gleams 

Down  into  silence  where  our  hearts  forget. 

Here    sings    the  yello  w- throat :  "Follow   me!  follow 
me,"  sings 

From  leafy  coverts  dewy  cool  and  still. 

The  cardinal  flashes  by  —  and  halcyon  shrill 
Touches  the  water  into  widening  rings. 

A  brook  comes  hither,  wandering  down  the  glade, 
A  troubadour  of  laughter  making  gay 
The  lusty  maples,  singing  all  the  way, 

And  here  down-flashing  in  a  bright  cascade. 


104 


21  tSoofc  ot  Jloems 


91  Little    Here  morning  pauses  glancing  down  to  see 
ILafee  Her  own  fair  image  in  this  placid  deep. 

(Continued)  Here  silent  mists  their  long  night-watches  keep 

Weaving  wide  silver  nets  of  witchery. 

It  is  a  place  to  linger  in  to  hear 

The  message  of  the  wind  so  gently  told 
Beneath  thick  branches,  and  communion  hold 

With  Beauty  shepherd  of  each  day  and  year. 


105 


Beneatft  Blue  &fete8  anlr 


The  sigh  of  the  wind  in  the  trees, 
in        The  glory  of  light  in  the  air, 
tI)C        A  day  that  is  quiet  and  fair  — 
.Forrfit    These  are  above  thee,  these 

With  the  spirit  of  peace  are  here 

Over  thy  nameless  sod. 

Here  bends  the  golden-rod, 
The  woodpecker  taps  his  cheer. 

Here  at  the  foot  of  an  oak 

Silently  taking  thy  rest, 

Forgotten  the  hand  that  was  pressed 
Forgotten  the  voice  that  spoke. 

Cheerily  the  cricket  sings, 

Sweet  is  the  touch  of  the  Fall, 
Joyous  the  Flicker's  call, 

Happy  the  passing  wings. 

If  they  could  greet  thee  again 

Would'st  thou  awake  and  be  glad, 
After  the  day  thou  hast  had 

Walking  the  ways  of  men  ? 

Is  all  of  light  and  of  mirth 
Sweet  as  this  lying  down? 
Beauty,  or  wealth,  or  renown 

Good  as  this  mingling  with  earth  ? 


106 


Book  of 


Softly  the  sunlight  streams 
in        Out  from  the  sundown  land, 
t|)0        Gently  an  unseen  hand 

Draws  me  to  night  and  to  dreams. 

(Continued) 

Thee  —  has  it  not  drawn  thee 
On  to  the  ultimate  dawn  ? 
Thou  into  shadow  gone 

Dost  thou  not  truly  see  ? 

Softly  the  sunlight  dies 
In  the  far  sundown  land, 
Gently  an  unseen  hand 

Draws  me  and  I  arise. 

Cheerily  the  cricket  sings 

Sweet  is  the  touch  of  the  Fall, 
Joyous  the  Flicker's  call, 

Trustful  the  passing  wings. 


107 


Bhte  Cities  anlr 


Tn  tlje    Clouds  and  a  misty  day, 
Sifter-        Now,  with  the  passing  sun 
Amber  and  rose  for  the  gray, 
When  day  is  done. 

Here  on  the  margin  of  night, 
Darkness  lying  before, 

Peace,  and  the  beauty  of  light 
When  day  is  o'er. 


108 


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